


lotf minifics

by ihavetheconch



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Fluff, M/M, Mild Gore, Minific, Pre Island, Recovery, Trauma, post island
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihavetheconch/pseuds/ihavetheconch
Summary: exactly what it says on the tin. not all of them are pairings! any potential triggers or squicks will be tagged at the beginning of each chapter :-)
Relationships: Jack Merridew/Ralph, Roger/Simon (Lord of the Flies)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. duet (rogermon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rlly loved the idea of roger and simon singing a duet in choir pre-island but didnt know how to rlly write ppl singing so it turned into this!! also if u attended british primary school this is inspired by those dumb mandatory christmas choir trips to the church. if u know u know
> 
> cw: vague religious talk (it's set in a church), anxiety talk, non-graphic anxiety attack

Simon loved the school's Christmas trips.

The church they were seated in was bustling with schoolchildren, teachers and parents alike, all trying to find somewhere to sit for the evening. Chatter filled the building. It felt warm and joyous.

The interior of the church was decorated with various colours of tinsel and handmade crafts the littluns had done in class towards the end of the term, complete with a large tree in the centre of the building that was illuminated by the dim candles dotted on the walls and decorated with various ornaments. 

Simon let out a content sigh, looking out from the bench where the choir was patiently seated at the other children. In a sea of heads, he managed to catch a glimpse of Ralph amongst the crowd, and frantically waved at his friend with a bright smile.

Jack, who had been busying around the entire day ensuring each choir member was organized and prepared for the service, raised a brow at Simon, but said nothing.

Ralph only took notice after Samneric, who were hyper alert and excited, notified him with a tap on the shoulder. Ralph's eyes met Simon's, and he awkwardly waved back, shy of the attention.

Simon then turned his attention to Roger and glanced up at him. His smile faltered. 

The dark boy was breathing heavily, his fists clenched up in his choir robe and his eyes panicked. Simon knew what was going on. He gently reached out, taking hold of one of Roger's hands.

"I'm here," he murmured softly, barely audible above the boom of the crowds in the church. 

This seemed to snap Roger out of his anxious trance, for he suddenly glanced down at Simon. The fear was still in his eyes. "I'm nervous-" he spluttered, hushed.

"I know," Simon nodded, his expression calm but sympathetic. He gave Roger's hand a comforting squeeze. "Do you want to go outside?"

Roger barely managed a stiff nod.

Simon flashed him a reassuring smile before pulling Roger to his feet, signalling to Jack they needed time out. There was a code for this; Jack understood immediately. 

The pair headed out one of the emergency exits of the church and wandered to the surrounding cemetery.

Roger stopped at a large angel statue and leaned back against it, letting the cool December breeze hit his face. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes briefly. He felt the suffocating grip of anxiety loosen, until it fully let go.

He could breathe again.

Simon watched, perched on a smaller stone tablet on the floor, studying Roger's face with curious eyes.

"This is why people think you're batty, Si." Roger mumbled, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Simon blinked, and averted his gaze quickly. There was an undeniable blush on the boy's face. "No, I'm not-" he tried to brush his staring off. "I was just looking."

A hand ruffled his dark locks. 

"I know. Thank you for what you did for me there." Roger was looking at Simon now, a kindness that was rarely there in his eyes. Simon felt immeasurably lucky. 

His eyes met Roger's, and he smiled. "It's alright, I think you'll do great...we've been practicing nearly all year, and even if something does go wrong we can count on Maurice to distract everyone," Simon chuckled at the last part, getting to his feet again.

Roger smiled a bit at that. It was a rare sight - something he usually only showed to Simon. He opened his mouth to say something, but paused for a moment. "We'd better head back in. Sounds like it's quieting up in there."

Simon nodded, and flashed Roger a thumbs up. "Knock 'em dead, Rog!" he cheered and pressed a kiss against the other boy's cheek. Simon retreated back inside as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving Roger to question what had just happened. 

Roger touched his cheek tentatively, eyes wide and cheeks tinged pink. Despite the freezing snow he found himself standing in, Roger felt warm inside. Warm, fuzzy butterflies.

This was different to the butterflies he got when he was anxious, though - this was nice. It felt hopeful, it felt promising. He felt wanted.

Roger couldn't let Simon down now.

He re-entered the church with a newfound determination, took his seat beside Simon and held onto the boy's hand, looking directly out at the crowd with confidence. The service began.


	2. amen (roger)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> decided to just group this in w the minifics bc its small and im not like, that confident in it? so yea!! also this is based on a hc i have regarding rogers backstory
> 
> cw: religious talk, medical talk, gore, eye trauma, generally upsetting??

"Roger?"

A clear voice sliced through Roger's clouded mind, and snapped him out of his trance of staring at the ants on the ground.

He looked up through his strands of black hair, squinting at the doctor who had come outside to retrieve him.

"Time for your appointment."

Roger said nothing. He stood, taking care to stomp on the spot the ants had been crawling around in.

The pair headed inside of the hospital, and strolled slowly through the corridors. Roger noted the stench of the place - sharp and bitter, sanitsed. He turned his nose up at it.

"You already know why you're here, correct?" the doctor did not even look down at Roger.

"Yes."

"Good."

That was the extent of their conversation, and soon they arrived at the surgeon's office.

It was neat inside - counters surrounding the walls, drawers likely filled with all sorts of equiptment, a wooden stool in the centre of the room with a blaring light shining over it. Roger didn't need to guess who would be sitting there.

The doctor instructed Roger to recite the Lord's prayer during the procedure. Roger complied, his voice hoarse and unstable from the anxiety squeezing his throat.

Roger trembled, his small hands gripping the edge of the stool tightly. His bitten nails dug into the wood, his paranoid eyes darted around the office as he watched the surgeon gather his tools.

The surgeon then crouched down in front of Roger and glanced at him expectantly, holding the ice pick in his gloved grip.

"When you're ready, Roger."

A sharp breath. A near-choke. Tears that threatened to spill at any moment. Roger had to keep it down.

The surgeon inched closer, threatening to fill Roger's line of sight completely.

His eyes scanned the office for comfort. A reassuring smile from the observing doctor, a pat on the shoulder from the surgeon - anything. But there was none. Only God.

Roger's vision became obscured by the surgeon's figure and the ice pick towering over him, and Roger knew his fate was sealed.

"...Our father who art in heaven.." Roger's voice sounded so small, so faint in the office. He had never felt more vunerable in his life.

The surgeon placed his fingers on either side of Roger's eyelids, and forced them open. The ice pick was inserted through the top of the eye socket, and the procedure began.

"H...Hallowed be thy name..."

Roger wanted to vomit. Roger wanted to squeeze his eyes shut. Roger wanted, but he couldn't. He trained his gaze steadily forward, his eyes boring into the operating lamp above him.

"Thy Kingdom come, Thy will...be done..."

A whack.

Roger fought the urge to pull away.

That must have been the hammer the doctor had told him about, Roger thought. The one that would shatter his thin layer of bone and allow access for the ice pick. No stopping now.

"On Earth as...as it is Heaven..."

Then the twisting began.

Roger could feel it, he thought. Or could he? He wasn't sure anymore.

The surgeon sliced carelessly, twisting the ice pick around and severing fibres left and right.

"G...Give us this day...our daily bread..."

Roger was beginning to hurt. His head pounded. His heart race picked up, and he began taking shallow, quick breaths. The surgeon took no notice.

"And...forgive us our...our tresspasses..."

Another slice. Roger twinged in pain.

"As we...we forgive...those who tresspass...against us..."

Roger could barely form a thought. His mind was screaming for him to run, get far away from this wretched office and the pick.

Roger's hands shot up, tears streaming down his terrified face. He clutched the surgeon's wrist, his previous whispers now an anguished yell.

"Don't lead us to temptation!"

Blurs. The surgeon became a hazy, vague mismatch of colours above Roger. The office morphed, and closed in on itself.

Roger's voice became an incoherent gurgle, and they knew they had gone too far.


	3. road to recovery (hinted jalph)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah ok this is a longer one than the others!! basically a continuation from the last chapter but after the rescue and on the ship back to england. i kinda wanna continue this so i left it on a cliffhanger????idk!!! please lemme know
> 
> cw: trauma, ptsd talk, anxiety talk, talk of dead characters, jack & co. are assholes, ralph passes out

The nurse impatiently dunked Jack's head under the water, her brows furrowed in disgust. Jack hissed - a feral, cat-like noise.

The bath was quick. Rushed, for no one wanted to touch the boy for too long. He was damaged goods as far as anyone on the ship was concerned. Far too damaged to redeem. Still, the naval officer requested everyone who was found on the island be washed and clothed for arrival back in England.

After all, they weren't savages, were they?

As Jack sat soaked in the tub, he heard the nurses chattering amongst themselves outside the door. They refused to help dry him off or brush his hair.

So, a small bundle was tossed into the bathroom, a towel made from some scratchy material and a basic comb. Jack went to shoot a glare at the nurse, but it was too late. The door slammed shut. 

This time, however, there wasn't the click of the lock that tailed after it. 

Jack blinked. 

He could go out onto the ship. _They're letting me..._ his thoughts trailed off. 

That oh-so familiar silhoutte clouded his vision. It was a daily occurance. One that was more expected than not. 

_Ralph._

Ralph sat still in the wooden wash basin, his eyes bored into the wooden floor; his thoughts miles away. The nurse that been assigned to care for him had given up trying to comfort Ralph long ago.

He was unresponsive, distant and hollow. No one had heard an utter peep from Ralph for days. He only ever made noise when he cried at night.

The only movements Ralph made were the gentle rocks from where the nurse washed the shampoo suds from his locks.

After the suds had been removed, the nurse aided Ralph out of the tub and wrapped him up in a soft, warmed towel. 

Ralph took a seat on a nearby stool in front of a small vanity mirror. The nurse began to gently dry off Ralph's hair with a smaller towel, and afterwards carefully worked a comb through it until Ralph somewhat resembled his old self.

Ralph could hardly bear to look up at the mirror however; whatever he saw in the reflection wasn't him. He had lost himself on that island. A part of him he could never get back. He didn't even know how he could face his father again. _If he's even alive,_ Ralph thought to himself. _Who knows what's happened back at home. Perhaps Devon's been blown to smitherenes, perhaps they somehow know what happened on the island and I've been exiled, perhaps-_

"Ralph!" 

The nurse was staring at him, worry evident on her pale face. 

The frail boy blinked, his eyes widening as he came back to reality. 

"There are some clothes for you on the bed. Please change into them and come to dinner when you feel ready, alright? Everyone will be there." she murmured the last part sympathetically before hurrying out of the small room.

Everyone.

 _Not everyone. Simon and Piggy wouldn't be there,_ Ralph thought bitterly. _The mulberry boy wouldn't be there. The countless littluns that had wandered off, ate bad fruit, injured themselves wouldn't be there._

A chime of a clock in the cabin hallway snapped Ralph back again. He stumbled to his feet, and once he had dried the rest of himself off he went about dressing himself.

The clothes they had provided him with were simple - a cotton shirt and a dark pair of shorts, both of which were slightly too big for him. Ralph supposed when they set out on their rescue mission, they hadn't expected to find an island full of boys, but rather men. _Civilized men, who wouldn't-_ Ralph stopped himself.

He left the room, not even glancing up to check how he looked in the mirror.

The dining room was small - they were on a ship, after all. A long table centred in the room, with seats on either side. Most of the boys were already seated, although hardly any were chatting as you'd usually expect at a dinner.

Even the littluns, who had been so bouncy and full of life on the island were silent, instead choosing to fiddle with the ends of their sleeves or poke around at their food with their cutlery.

Ralph gulped. The biguns eyes were on him - expectant, judgemental, aggressive, worried.

Ralph kept his head down and made his way to where Samneric were sat. The twins quickly shuffled so that there was a seat inbetween them, and Ralph gladly took it.

He did not look up. 

There was a crushing silence for a good few minutes as everyone awaited the arrival of the naval officer and his crew to join the dinner.

When they did, it only created a more awkward atmosphere in the room. 

The seven uniformed men, all blue blobs that kind of morphed into each other took their places at the remaining seats dotted around the table, the naval officer who had spoken to Ralph at the very end.

"Boys," he began, voice starkly different from the cheerful tone he had used to make light of the situation on the island when he first arrived with the naval crew.

"I do not know what in God's name happened on that damned island, but I trust you will all speak when you are ready. I am expecting you to all get along on our journey back as well. It's going to be a few weeks, and I do not, I repeat! Not! Want any fighting, do you boys hear me?"

Some of the littluns were snivelling at the sudden lecture, biguns glowering at the officer's patronizing speech. But a low 'Yes, Sir' rose from the small crowd anyhow, which seemed good enough answer for the officer.

"Very well. You may eat, for you all look about as thin as twigs and pale as rocks." that hearty chuckle again. 

Ralph wanted to spit at the officer, he felt offended that the man could even muster any bit of joy at a situation like this. Then again, Ralph didn't think he was aware of how deep the crimes on the island ran. He probably didn't know about Simon, or Piggy...

Samneric, who had begun piling food onto their plates, looked shyly up at Ralph and gave him a small nudge. 

"You should-"  
"Eat, Ralph-"

"They're right, Ralph." 

_That voice._

It took him mere seconds to register who spoke. 

Ralph shakily raised his head, trembling as he came face-to-face with Jack Merridew. He was sitting exactly opposite to Ralph, but looked totally unfamiliar.

The clay and blood had been washed from his skin, the thick stench of blood and grime all gone, his hair still wet and unbrushed, but neater than how Ralph remembered it to be. Clothes, too - the same clothes the rest of the boys were wearing. They fitted Jack a little better though, seeing as he was the eldest of the lot. Ralph could almost see the boy he had first met all those months ago. The awkward but headstrong boy. The mysterious choir leader. His friend. His...no.

Ralph remembered the kiss. His tender, first kiss. With Jack. His throat tightened.

The stench of food was not helping. He wanted to hurl. Wanted to empty his stomach. Maybe the sadness would empty from him too.

Ralph's hands were suddenly gripped on either side of him. He flinched, nearly jumped out of his seat and looked quickly to his left and right in horror - then relaxed a little.

Samneric had obviously taken note of Ralph's flare of anxiety.

"We're here-"  
"For you, Ralph-"

Their voices were hushed, but kind. Ralph's mouth felt too dry to swallow, let alone speak. Instead he squeezed the twin's hands in response.

Jack grunted and stepped on the twins feet under the table, causing them to squeak and pull away. "Too bad there isn't any meat here, huh Ralph? I could've caught us some. Could've had a feast." he smirked, ice blue eyes flashing with that same violence Ralph remembered from the hunt.

Ralph's bottom lip, chapped and red from all the anxious biting, trembled and let a whimper escape. Ralph couldn't pretend he wasn't terrified of the redhead, it was impossible. His legs felt numb, his stomach kept sinking and he was getting dizzier by the minute.

Jack's smirk faltered. "But no. You just had to ruin our fun on the island, didn't you Ralph?"

"I...I...didn-"

"He speaks!" Jack cheered, nudging Roger and Maurice who were watching intently beside their chief. Roger had his head resting on his palm, his eyes glued to Ralph studying the frail boy's every move. Maurice was grinning, flicking peas from his plate at Ralph and giggling. Ralph hadn't even noticed their presence before.

Ralph began to hyperventilate. He glanced desperately around the table; everyone began to blur. The table was noisy now, littluns chatting with each other and the officers loud, probably drunk from whatever liquid they'd snuck onto the ship with them.

Jack was speaking again. What was he saying? Ralph didn't know. He felt like he was underwater. Samneric gripped onto him again, gently shaking him and raising their voices urgently. Even Jack began to look confused. 

Ralph felt himself crash forward onto his empty plate, the loud smash of the breaking ceramic making his eyes widen one more time before he passed out. 

After that? Nothing.


End file.
